


Dancing Into Battle

by mmmdraco



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-16
Updated: 2012-07-16
Packaged: 2017-11-10 02:50:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/461425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mmmdraco/pseuds/mmmdraco
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Voldemort won't kill a dancing man, so it falls to Snape to teach Harry what he knows.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dancing Into Battle

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: The characters in this story are mine only in spirit and voice. Their "likenesses", names, categorizing features, favourite activities (other than the randiness I like to make them engage in and certain other convenient aspects of their lives), studies, teachers, friends, acquaintances, etc., etc., belong to J.K. Rowling and not me.

One day, Harry Potter heard two words out of the mouth of Severus Snape that he had never expected to hear: "Good work."

It took him several moments to realize that the comment was directed at him, then several more in which to gape at him professor, blabber beginnings of statements, then finally murmur, "Thank you, sir!" before knocking over his cauldron and melting Draco Malfoy's shoes with his potion. This, of course, lost 50 house points from Gryffindor and gained Harry a detention. Though Ron and Hermione were quick to protest, Harry begrudgingly accepted the punishment.

That evening, Harry reported for detention to the Potions classroom, his wand tucked away in his room since he knew he wouldn't be allowed to use it anyway. When he looked around the classroom, his eyebrows raised. All of the desks were pushed to the sides of the room. Everything already sparkled. Harry looked around on the shelves and in the cabinets. Everything was neat, tidy, labeled, stocked and organized. So, what would Harry do for detention?

A moment later, Harry had an awful suspicion that he knew exactly what he would be forced to do for detention as Snape walked into the room carrying a metronome, Dress Robes for Her, and a large jug of pumpkin juice. Harry's first question was, "Professor... why do I have to dress up as a girl? Is this a sick fantasy of yours? Because, if it is, I think maybe I should go to Dumbledore and let him know."

Snape set the jug of pumpkin juice down with a thud. "No, you wretched boy. You'll be learning to dance. There's a Ministry ball soon. The top students in their year for Defence Against the Dark Arts shall be expected to attend in order to find new Aurors. As you are the one for your year, you will need to know how to dance so that you can avoid embarrassing the Hogwarts name."

Harry's eyebrows knit slowly. "But, I thought Hermione was first! I don't even read the texts for that class, let alone do my homework. So, how? How am I the best?"

Putting down the rest of the things in his arms, Snape walked over to Harry very softly and slowly, almost putting Harry at ease. Then, he reached up and lightly traced the lightning-bolt-shaped scar that had made Harry so famous.

"I think it is a natural talent, Potter. Do you think I would be a Potions Master if it hadn't already come easily to me?"

Harry grinned slightly. "I guess not."

"*Definitely* not. I like things easy. I just find that living the easy life is not all that it's conjured up to be."

Suddenly on guard, Harry stepped back. "Who are you?"

"What?"

Harry put up his fists. "It was one thing earlier when you told me I had done a good job. But now, being so candid with me after our never saying a pleasant word about each other, let alone *to* each other... It's too odd. Explain."

Snape chuckled softly. "It's no wonder you're top in your class." He walked over to his desk and opened the top drawer. "There are plots out there which can kill you. In the Ministry right now, probably a fourth would either willing kill you or hand you over to the Dark Lord."

"Voldemort. I don't bow to him; he isn't my lord."

Snape smiled a bit more, though he swallowed heavily as Harry said the words. "You will begin to find opposition everywhere that you go. So long as you have that scar on your head, someone will be after you. I want you to be prepared because I now believe that you are truly the only one who can do it and keep Him away. And because I am of less use in my current position than I had planned for, I have to find something else to do. Whether I like you or dislike you doesn't really matter... so long as I keep you alive."

"And so I have to learn how to dance?"

Snape nodded. "Yes. There is a pride among the Death Eaters that they will never kill a man who is dancing, whether it be the tango, the Viennese Waltz, or the Macarena."

Harry blinked. "Uh, I can do the Running Man."

Snape's blithe sense of humor kicked in. "May I see this 'Running Man'?"

Harry lifted one leg, grabbed his ankle and jumped, bringing his leg forward, and then pulling it back. He repeated this motion several times, and then stopped, blushing. "There. Are you happy now?"

Clearing his throat, Snape answered, "Quite. It at least proves you have balance on the ground and not just in the sky."

Harry grinned and brought his foot down to rest on the ground again. "That's about the most I can dance. I can sort of waltz, but not really. You've got your work cut out for you."

Snape nodded. "That I already knew. I saw your abysmal performance at the Yule Ball two years ago. If Miss Patel's toes are healed yet, they've only just. You stepped on them quite a lot. She's a good girl to have winced as little as she did."

Rocking a bit on one foot, Harry blushed. "Yes, well, I never *have* been taught to dance. Shall we get on with it?"

Grabbing the dress robes from where he'd put them down, Snape shed his outer robe to reveal that he wore a simple white shirt and grey slacks underneath. They had a tailored fit, and showed off a slender body. Harry was momentarily intrigued. Snape quickly slid the dress robes over his head and Harry's eyebrows seemed to catapult up, taking his eyelids with them. Snape actually looked... good! The blue dress robes really made his skin, well, glow. The fitted waistline enhanced his figure. The elongated sleeves made his normal stance into an almost graceful pose. But the dark hair and somewhat beak-like nose did sort of ruin the transformation. "Potter, you are not allowed to tell anyone that you have seen me like this."

Harry nodded. "Of course not. Though, I'm not certain they'd believe me if I did."

Snape smirked. "Right. Well, let's not take our chances." He started up the metronome and a steady beat emanated, resonating off the walls. Then, a bit of music began to play. It was a waltz. A nice, slow, quarter-step waltz played a tune across the room and back again.

"I don't suppose I could learn the foxtrot first?" Harry asked.

Holding out one hand, Snape gestured for Harry to come over to him. "Come. You have to be over here in order to learn how to dance. And, need I remind you, this *is* your detention. You're not expected to enjoy it."

Harry made his way over to Snape and just stood in front of him. "What now?"

"Hold me."

"What?! Oh, like you're my dancing partner. Okay." Harry put his right hand on Snape's left shoulder and picked up Snape's other hand with his own.

Snape cleared his throat and began to rearrange Harry's position. Harry's right hand went to Snape's waist. His arm squared off more and stiffened slightly. Snape coaxed him to stand so that he would lead with his chest, and then he pulled him slightly closer. "There. That is how you must stand to waltz."

Harry nodded and remembered the feeling of the position like he would for a new Quidditch move. He nodded and Snape returned the nod in kind.

"Now, we will practice a simple box step. Take a step forward with your left foot." Harry did and Snape brought his right foot back in tandem. "Now, bring your other foot up to the first, then over -- one smooth motion; an arc -- and plant it so that your feet are about shoulder width apart and you are steady."

Harry grimaced and completed the move. Snape nodded. "Now, bring your left foot over and place it next to your right foot. Be graceful about it." Harry did so. "Now bring your right foot back and plant it." Snape nodded as Harry moved. "And bring your left foot back to your right foot, then over to the left in that arc, yes, that's good. And your right foot over to join your left. Yes." Harry nodded and Snape almost smiled. "There. You completed a box step. Now, let's try it again."

Harry looked down at his feet and watched them move through the motions which he had just been taught. Slowly, but surely, he began to feel more comfortable with the movements and smiled as they became more graceful. "Hey! I can do this! Yeah!"

Snape let go of Harry's shoulder and put of his index finger under Harry's chin and lifted it. "Next lesson, then. Look at your partner -- always. Learn to dance without watching your feet and no one else will care even if you do miss a moment of grace. Also, we must start to dance to the beat of music. Stop, and we will begin again." Harry paused and found his beginning position.

"Listen to the music. One, two, three; one, two, three... it is a continuous rhythm, even though the melody changes. Step forward on one, arc on two, over on three. Keep going with this. Stay steady, graceful, and you'll be fine. Let us give it a try."

Harry closed his eyes and listened to the music for a moment, then opened them and focused on Snape. The song slowed to a stop suddenly and began anew. Harry stepped perfectly, automatically going to lead Snape in a simple waltz. They danced like this for several minutes, until Snape pulled away. "Yes, that's very good."

Harry blushed. "I've heard more praise from you tonight than I've ever heard in Potions class."

Snape smirked. "That's because you're actually good at this, you simpering fool."

Harry had the decency to blush even more. "Yes, well, I'm good at all of the physical activities that I've tried -- at least, once I really understand them."

Snape stopped in his tracks just as Harry stepped closer to him and winced as Harry trod heavily on his foot. "Let's move on to the next move: a turning waltz. On this one, instead of stepping forward, step diagonally to the upper left, a nice long step, pull the arc, pull together, a long step diagonally to the lower right, pull the arc, pull together. Have you got it?"

Harry nodded, as he seemed to be doing a lot tonight. "Right." He seemed focused. When they gave it a try, he stumbled over his feet the first few times, generally just falling against Snape a bit, then got the hang of it and began to dance with ease.

Snape grinned. "I think it's time for the lady's turn."

Harry stopped abruptly, and then had to catch Snape as he momentarily lost his balance after crashing into Harry. "The *what*?"

"Lady's turn, Potter. It's a dance step."

Harry laughed, and felt better than he had since the beginning of his fourth year. "Right, right."

That evening, Harry learned every step that he thought could possibly be incorporated into the waltz, and then some more than that. At the end of the evening, just as Harry was about to rush out the door, he suddenly turned back to see Snape shedding his dress robes. "Professor, when is this ball?"

Snape looked up and unbuttoned the collar of his shirt. "It's next week, Potter."

Harry swallowed audibly. "You can't expect me to remember all of that for a week! Besides that, not everyone dances the waltz. I need to know more. If what you said is true, then I really need to be worried. Are you available tomorrow night?"

Snape had folded up the dress robes and was now playing with a loose string. "I will keep my doors opened for you, Mr. Potter. Should you choose to join me for a dancing lesson, I would be happy to oblige. I have not had such a good partner since, well, before you were born."

Harry smiled. "Then, I'll see you tomorrow night. Goodnight, Professor Snape. Sweet dreams." He didn't know what made him add that last bit on, but when Snape repeated the comment, Harry felt that it had been worth it. "Thank you, Professor... I know you have a reason as to why you're doing this, but since I'm not sure... well, I appreciate it no matter what your reason is."

That night, for the first time in a long, long time, Severus Snape slept well and had dreams which were very sweet. Unfortunately, they were of Harry Potter, and in the morning, Snape woke up somewhat sticky.

When Harry got back to the Gryffindor common room that evening, Ron and Seamus (who had been playing chess) looked up and immediately began bombarding him with questions about his detention. "Did Snape make you clean the floors with your tongue?" "Did you have to organize all the potions ingredients? I hate that! The jars are all so slimy!" "Did he have you plucking Dandelion fluff one stem at a time and preserving it in oil for our next lesson?"

Harry shook his head. "No. He taught me how to dance."

Ron's expression showed quite clearly that he was perplexed. "Dance?" He stood up. "Dance... like this?" He grabbed Seamus out of the chair and demonstrated a quick two-step. "Dance?"

"Well, sort of. Waltzing."

Hermione had been sitting quietly by the wayside. "Are you serious?"

Harry nodded. "Yes."

Ron snorted. "I bet you just had to clean Snape's socks or something but don't want to say. We all know you can't dance, Harry."

"Says who? I can waltz! Well, now I can."

Hermione stood up and smiled. "Well, let's just settle this, shall we?"

Ron laughed and Seamus ran off to let he rest of the Gryffindors know what was going on. "Okay. So, you'll need a partner. Who knows how?"

"I do," Hermione answered. "I took ballroom dancing lessons for three years before I came to Hogwarts. I still go sometimes on vacations."

The fierce glow of competition had arisen in Harry's eyes. "Well, let's begin, shall we?"

Hermione smiled, and with a quick wave of her wand and a few choice words, the furniture in the common room got up and walked until it was against the walls. Hermione walked to the middle of the room and stood. Harry followed quickly and took his stance in front of her, finding his position. "Music. We need music." A charming tune began to play. When Harry looked over, Seamus turned up the radio and grinned in anticipation -- as did almost the whole of Gryffindor."

Harry looked forward to Hermione, adjusting himself to the fact that she was so much smaller than Snape. Then, he whispered, "Ready?" to which Hermione nodded, and they began.

A simple box-step started, and then Harry began to take it to the diagonal. He twirled Hermione in a lady's turn, and star-stepped with her along the edge of the carpet. They twisted, twirled and smiled all the while. Harry was really beginning to see that this could be a lot of fun, though it was definitely hard work.

The waltz sped up as they went along, and Harry kept the beat, leading Hermione in just the right direction to keep things moving smoothly. Then, he felt the coming of the end of the piece of music. He positioned himself and Hermione in the exact middle of the room as the second to last note sounded, sent her into a whirl, and they bowed and curtsied in unison. 

Harry was pleased to see Ron grinning, but pale-faced. "So, think I don't know how to waltz now?"

Hermione grinned and grabbed Harry's arm. "Oh, that was wonderful! We'll have to do this again sometime. I have a dance partner! Have Snape teach you how to tango. Please!"

Suddenly, the house of Gryffindor burst into applause. Harry looked up. "What was that for?"

Seamus shrugged. "Delayed reaction. Good job, Harry! Best job I've seen in ages. You learned all that tonight? Blimey... talk about cramming."

Harry laughed and begged off further conversation in favor of sleep. When he woke in the morning, he felt extremely aroused, but couldn't remember the fading thought in his head about why. Something about the color blue... He got up and took a cold shower, forgetting to take his glasses off before stepping under the spray, having needed them in order to get to the bathroom in the first place. He shivered through his morning cleaning, but cooled off enough to be able to walk in a straight line.

During Potions that day, Snape did not tell Harry that he had done a good job, but he didn't tell him that he'd done a bad job either. It was an improvement nonetheless.

That night, Harry learned the foxtrot. Snape said goodnight to him first, and he's ruffled Harry's hair when Harry mentioned that Snape was better at teaching dancing than he was Potions, despite being good at both. Snape responded that Hogwarts had needed a Potions instructor, not a dancing instructor. Later that evening, Harry found himself touching his hair at odd times.

The next morning, at breakfast, Snape came in late and couldn't quite look Harry in the eye until he had finished eating. Then, Ron dared Harry and Hermione to waltz along the tabletop. Harry said, "Waltzing isn't practical on a table. Suppose we foxtrot?" Ron agreed, and the message was sent down the way to clear the table as much as possible.

Once everyone finally understood and did as they had been asked, Harry stood on the bench he had been seated on, stepped onto the table, and reached down to take Hermione's hand. She joined him and they took their positions. Seamus set up a silverware orchestra at the end of the table and as it began to play, Harry led Hermione off and down the table at a wild pace. Back and forth they went, feet barely tapping the table before they were taking the next step.

As a grand finale, Harry scouted out the ends of the other tables and led Hermione in a series of leaps. They jumped from the Gryffindor table to the Hufflepuff table. Then, they spun and jumped to the Ravenclaw table. They spun again and took a final leap to the Slytherin table where they dropped to one knee each and then threw one arm around each other as they bent back, savoring the finish. When they were done, Harry sat up and began to laugh, then noticed he was sitting in front of Draco Malfoy. 

Hermione politely excused herself from the table and ran back to the other side of the Great Hall. All the while, applause had been building. As Harry and Draco stared each other down, Draco raised his hands slowly and began to clap as well. "Good job, Potter. I didn't know you had it in you."

Harry grinned. "It's just as well you didn't for that look of shock on your pointy little face." He stood and took a running leap off the table, landing perfectly, and then going back to his own seat.

The look that Snape gave him was one to be proud of. It seemed as though Snape actually, well, liked him showing off?! He even smiled... a bit. Harry couldn't stop thinking about that smile all day.

That night, Harry learned how to do a number of Latin-American styled dances. The samba, rumba, and a bit of salsa dancing were thrown in the mix. Harry had a hard time learning just how to move his hips for all of it, and all of Snape's descriptions didn't help. Yet, when Snape finally showed him, Harry managed to get it right. The image just seemed to imprint itself in his mind. Since he was so focused on that, it might have explained why it seemed like Snape had made him demonstrate that particular skill for such a long time. Harry was hot at the end of the night, and took a quick cold shower before going to bed. He needed one again in the morning.

Sixth-years did not have Potions on Thursdays, so Harry took some time to practice his other dances with Hermione. She taught him some less popular dances, and even taught him about line-dancing and square dancing. The lower skill level involved in them was a welcome break from memorizing the slew of complicated steps in other dances he was learning.

That night, when Harry went to visit Snape, he was not in his classroom. Harry checked his office, but he was not there either. He even wandered around until he found Professor Snape's personal quarters, but it was to no avail. He went back to the classroom one more time and found Dumbledore waiting there. "Headmaster... do you happen to know where Professor Snape is at this moment?"

Dumbledore shook his head softly. "Though I believe I know, it would be best if I did not say. Professor Snape shouldn't be back until late this evening, though. I would say not to expect him until after midnight. I would also recommend going to bed before then." He nodded to Harry. "I had a feeling you were waiting for such information." He smiled, and left.

Always a bit dumbfounded after speaking to Dumbledore, Harry wandered over to the research bookcase at the back of the room and grabbed a random text. He sat down with it and began to read. After a while, a headache formed and Harry was about to shut the book when he noticed that the next page had the ingredients for a pain relief potion. Harry read it over, decided that it didn't sound so difficult, and began to work. Having organized the potion ingredients in the classroom numerous times, and having cleaned all of the equipment, Harry knew where to find everything.

A while later, at around quarter 'til one in the morning, Harry's head was pounding and the Potion had just finished cooling. He quickly separated it out into the two doses he had made (the recipe didn't shrink down any more than that) and drank one immediately. Only a few seconds later, the pain disappeared and Harry began to clean up his mess almost cheerfully. It was only a few moments later that Snape stumbled into the classroom and began combing the shelves for something. He didn't appear to find it. "Where's the bloody lacewing?"

Harry looked down at the bottle in front of him. "It's over here, Professor. What do you need it for?"

Snape seemed to twitch slightly. "Potter... I need to make a potion. I need lacewing for it."

"Oh, well, here. Use this cauldron. I've just cleaned it."

Snape ran over, and then spotted the dose of potion that Harry had yet to cover. "Potter... that orange potion... is that... Ixitensus, by any chance?"

Harry nodded and Snape grabbed the cup and downed the contents. He sank to the ground and twitched a bit more, the cup clattering on the floor and spilling the slight remains of the potion onto the floor. "Oh, thank you, Potter. That may have just saved my life."

Considering the circumstances, Harry thought he was doing pretty good not to drop his jar and utter, "Huh?" Instead, he walked around the counter and crouched next to Snape. "Hey... are you okay?"

Snape nodded. "Yes. I'll be fine. I just need a good night's sleep. The Cruciatus wears off completely in six hours if the caster isn't there to cast it again."

"Cruciatus?" Harry paused. "Voldemort. What were you doing with him?"

Snape sat up slightly. "As though it's any of your business, Potter, I am still something of a spy for the Order, and I still need to keep in the Dark... Voldemort's good graces. Since your show on Tuesday with Miss Granger, it made it through the grapevine that you can dance. So, I was called to help form a strategy. I had the audacity to suggest that we attempt it while you are dancing. Thankfully, he was as adamantly against it as he has always been. So, Cruciatus it was. Though I was in pain, I do know what they're planning. I heard. And I'm going to stop it."

Though Harry would not have trusted those words a week ago, he put more faith in them now. "Right. Now, let's get you to bed. I'll come back and clean up here."

Snape went to stand and winced. "Potter, I hate to ask this, but would you help me to my quarters? They're just down--"

Harry interrupted, "I know where they are, Professor." He then slung his arm under Snape's shoulders and hauled him to his feet. "Up you get, Snape."

With Harry's help, Snape got to his quarters. "Thank you, Potter. Would you care to come in?"

Harry nodded. "I won't let you go until you're safe in bed." The look on Snape's face at that remark wasn't something Harry could interpret.

Snape put his own hand on the door and whispered, "Acutempero." The door opened slightly and Harry pulled it open. "I keep this door warded at all times."

Harry helped Snape through the door, and felt it close behind him. "Where is your room?"

Snape pointed off to the left. "Down the hallway. But I must stop to see a man about a horse." 

Harry laughed at the outdated Muggle expression. "And where's your bathroom? Is it the other door down this way?" Snape nodded, and Harry led the way. He opened the door and let Snape in. "I'll be here when you get done." He looked uncomfortable for a moment. "Let me know if you, um, need and help, okay?"

Snape smiled. "Right. I'll be sure to, um, let you know."

Harry stood outside the door and waited for Snape. It was a few minutes later before Snape opened the door. "I think I'm all ready for bed now."

"Don't you need your pajamas?" Harry asked.

They made it into Snape's room before he answered. "I would need help putting them on. I can sleep in my robe tonight. It is of no consequence."

Harry shook his head. "No. I want you to be comfortable. You took the gun for me. Let me help you." He helped Snape over to the bed and sat him down. He helped Snape out of his robe and then headed over to his closet. "Are your pajamas in here?" One he opened the closet, he knew. "Would you mind too much if I put you in these?" He pointed to a set of pajamas with cows on them. It was a t-shirt and short set and actually looked rather comfortable.

"Whatever you'd like, Potter. I won't be picky in this situation. I have no right to be."

Harry removed the pajamas from their hangers and hung up Snape's robe on a hook on the door which seemed to be there for that very reason. He brought the pajamas over to Snape and laid them down on the bed. Snape was wearing grey trousers and another white button-up shirt. Harry knelt in front of Snape and began to unbutton the shirt. It revealed Snape's chest; smooth and pale. Harry helped him out of the shirt and into the pajama top. Then, he took a deep breath. He exhaled slowly. "Let's go ahead and lay you down."

Snape did what he could to help. "Thank you for this, Potter."

Once Snape was laying on his back, Harry decisively reached up and quickly unbuttoned and unzipped Snape's pants. He began to pull them down, encouraging Snape to lift his hips to make things a bit easier. However, Harry had forgotten one thing. He had Snape's pants around his ankles before he realized he'd never taken the man's shoes off. "Heh... I sort of forgot about those." He quickly untied the shoes and eased them off, setting them down by Snape's bed. He took a glance up at Snape, then immediately looked back down to the man's pants. Snape wore boxers... the kind that opened in the front. Harry blushed and went to work getting Snape's pants off. He put them with his shirt, and then eased Snape into the pajama bottoms, carefully pulling them up for him. "There you go. Do you have a hamper anywhere in here?"

Snape gestured to the corner of the room. "Over there. Help me under the covers?"

Harry nodded. "Of course." He helped Snape sit up, pulled the covers down, and had Snape lay down on the revealed section. He pulled the bedding down beneath Snape's legs, then back on top. "There you go. I'll just clean up a bit here, and then go clean up the classroom. Good night, Professor Snape."

"Good night, Potter."

Harry put Snape's clothes in the hamper and quietly left the room. Curiosity got the best of him, however, so he could not help but give everything else in Snape's quarters a glance before leaving. He looked into the bathroom and amused himself by looking at the vast supply of potions that Snape kept in his medicine cabinet. He also kept a wide array of bandages and a large stock of Hex-Away cream. Amusing at first, the actual contents of the cabinet were very sobering. Though, the monogrammed towels in silver and emerald green were not too much of a surprise.

Proceeding out the door and to the right, Harry came across the living room. He had ignored it completely on his way in, but gave it a study now. Snape had a small desk in one corner that seemed to be used primarily for letter writing. A few small bookcases full of murder-mysteries and well-known pieces of fiction, as well as poetry compilations, filled one wall. There was a fireplace at the back with a mantle full of beer steins from around the world. He recognized a trio from America which his Uncle Vernon had been trying to get a hold of for years. The fire was not lit, but the fireplace looked well-used. Two red leather armchairs formed a triangle with the fireplace, and a magazine rack full of the latest Potions journals sat between them. Then came the crowning touch: Snape had a pool table.

The walls of the room were a cream color with wood accents in a honeyed color. There were accents of red all over, including the felt of the pool table. All in all, it was a comfortable room and very inviting.

Harry traveled on to the next room which appeared to be the kitchen. It was not a typical kitchen. There were three sinks in one unit; all set at different levels, and sliding metal cutting boards covered the different sections. Pots and pans hung from a rack above Harry's head, occasionally dotted with hanging potted ferns. The stove was neat and had six burners. The fridge was chrome without a single fingerprint. It was nowhere near the kitchen Harry had been forced to fry bacon in as a child, but was singularly impressive, much like the man who had obviously decorated it.

As Harry walked on to the next room, he thought back to how Snape's bedroom had been decorated. It had been a plethora of tan, eggshell, brown, sand, and beige. It was almost entirely neutral-colored but for a light green vine detail along the chair rail. There was a four-poster bed, a dresser, a closet, a hamper, and that was about it. There were no windows in Snape's quarters, it seemed. It made sense, for Snape's quarters were in the dungeons. But, even the Ministry of Magic had fake windows.

Harry was proven wrong when he entered the next room. If the Great Hall's ceiling mimicked whatever the sky was like at a particular moment, this room was the best painting of what the Great Hall's ceiling looked like on only the clearest of nights. The focal point was Orion in the middle of the ceiling where three light bulbs hung to be his belt. The rest was merely painted on. There was a single window on the far side of the room that looked out over both the lake and the Forbidden Forest. But, the room itself was amazing. There were shelves built along every wall, each one filled to bursting with Potions books and journals. A large collection of Snape's own Potions notes lay on top of a desk beneath the window with a large filing cabinet next to it, seemingly for the same reason. There, in the middle of the room, sat several cabinets full of ingredients and equipment not readily available to students. Harry was tempted to look through them all, but decided that it was late enough already, especially since he still had the Potions classroom to clean. Harry closed up the room and checked on Snape quickly before he left.

The Potions Master was curled up almost sweetly in his bed, his hair falling lighting in his face, his hands tangled in the bedclothes. He snored very faintly and almost looked at peace. Harry smiled and closed the door behind him. He warded the door and left.

Harry made his way back to the Potions classroom and began to clean. As he finished scrubbing out the cauldron he'd used, he couldn't help but think that Snape's rooms seemed, well, very much like him. They were a tad eccentric, but beautifully put together.

At this point in the night, Harry was too tired to realize that he'd been thinking more and more about how well Snape was put together.

Harry woke up late the next morning to Ron shaking his shoulder. "c'mon, Harry. Get up! You already missed History of Magic. Hermione will have a cow if you don't make it to your next class, and then we'll have to feed it to something of Hagrid's!"

Rubbing his eyes beneath his glasses (as he realized he'd forgotten to take them off), Harry sat up and looked at Ron. The sheets fell down to his waist and Ron gave him an odd look. "What is it, Ron?"

"Why are you still wearing your robes? Did you wake up early, get ready, and then fall asleep again?" He shook his head in confusion.

Harry yawned. "Something like that, Ron. What class is next?"

Ron tossed Harry his wand. "What else? Potions."

Harry performed a Freshening Charm on himself and his robes when Ron turned his back. "Great. I wonder if I can manage to make breakfast instead of my Potion and not get detention."

Ron considered the idea for a moment. "Well, *you* learned how to dance, so it seems like anything is possible."

Harry bewitched his pillows to beat Ron until he'd consumed five feathers from it, then left the room, smirking. "You're just going to have to learn from someone else, Ron. I know you really wanted me to teach you, you know, so you could dance with Hermione and all, but you've insulted me."

Ron looked up from the floor (with three feathers stuck to his lips). "How did you know, Harry? You-" He coughed as he swallowed feather number one.

"Four to go, Ron. See you in class." Harry left the room.

Once Harry entered Snape's classroom, he glanced around to make certain that he'd cleaned everything sufficiently. It all seemed fine, but Harry was distracted by Snape walking into the room. He glanced around briefly before saying to Harry, "And where is Weasley, Mr. Potter?"

Harry smiled. "He was upset that I have no intentions of giving him dance lessons. I believe he's drafting a letter to Dumbledore, asking him to add such a course of study to the curriculum. After all, it's so very valuable. But who would teach?"

Snape smiled briefly. "Not yourself, Potter. Not at all."

Harry took his seat. "Exactly."

Ron showed up just then, still covered in feathers. "I'm sorry, Professor Snape! I was just..."

"No need for excuses, Mr. Weasley. Mr. Potter has regaled us with your story. Next time, make inquiries in person. There is no need to go to the Owlery to send a letter to the headmaster."

Ron's eyes went wide, but he took his seat. "Yes, Professor."

They brewed the Ixitensus potion, to Harry's surprise. The only difficult part of the process was measuring out the ingredients -- something Harry had always been good at, but as he brewed the potion, Harry noticed that it came easily. He therefore let his body take control while he thought of what his mind had been consumed with since Monday night: dancing, and Snape.

That made him realize why the potion was so easy now. "Hey, this potion is in 3/3 time!"

Professor Snape hid a grin at his desk by letting a shock of hair escape from behind his ear. Harry grinned at a spot on the wall. Ron was busily plucking feathers from his hair and Hermione, for once, looked confused.

That night, Harry learned to break dance. Snape was busy, likely with another call to Voldemort, so Harry had hung around the Gryffindor common room. Before he could get bored with watching Ron complete his star chart (with varying looks of pain and anguish on his face), Lee Jordan had come in doing a dance move that Harry vaguely remembered was called "The Robot". It was the first, but certainly not the last, of the dances that Harry learned that night. Lee specially tutored him in break dancing, though, after Harry fell while attempting the Running Man. He went on to show that Quidditch honed just the right muscles for dancing, too.

When Lee skived off to go to bed, Harry remained in the common room to sit down for a bit. It was half past eleven. Harry wondered if Snape was back yet. If he was, perhaps Harry could show off what he'd learned. And if he hadn't... Well, Ixitensus lost all of its potency after half of an hour. Just in case, Harry snuck into his room and retrieved his Invisibility Cloak. He would make sure that Snape was okay before he went to bed. After all, he needed something to do with all of the adrenaline in his system from the dancing.

Mrs. Norris seemed to be following him. She seemed to be constantly underfoot tonight. It hadn't even been that she'd noticed him and followed! She was just there... going where he was going. Then, suddenly, Mrs. Norris turned where Harry didn't, and he realized that Mrs. Norris must not have noticed him at all. Perhaps dancing had even more benefits than he'd previously thought.

Harry arrived at the Potions classroom and immediately set about retrieving the book he'd pulled the recipe for Ixitensus from the previous night. When he opened up to the proper page, he saw a small piece of parchment flutter to the floor. He picked it up and glanced at it briefly before starting to put it back into the book. Then, he glanced at it again. It said in a simple script, "Thank you, Potter." Harry smiled and got to work.

It was dangerous this time. The ingredient stores had run down because of their lesson that day and Harry wasn't certain he'd have time to get more. He looked closely at the lacewing, the crucial ingredient, and decided there was enough. Indeed, as he proceeded with the potion, there was just enough lacewing and not a fleck more.

Soon enough, Harry finished the potion, or at least to the point where it had to cool. If he kept the potion heated, it would stay indefinitely, but if he let it cool by even a degree, then he'd have only half an hour left, and with no lacewing remaining in Snape's personal stores, it wasn't a risk that Harry intended to take.

Keeping a potion, especially one *meant* to cool, at a constant temperature was more difficult than Harry had imagined. He had to carefully control his thoughts so that they remained neutral. He thought of Transfiguration. It was interesting to him, but not so much so that he would become passionate in his thoughts like he would if he thought of... other things.

Thankfully, just as Harry accidentally thought of Quidditch (which spiked, then dropped, the temperature) Snape crawled through the door. Harry set the potion to cool, then ran over to Snape to help him. "Voldemort again?"

Snape looked up from the floor, his face expressionless. "Well, it certainly wasn't a flock of pixies."

Harry leaned down and wrapped Snape's arm around his shoulders. "Oh, you must be feeling ill. A joke? At your age?"

Snape glared at him and gripped more tightly on Harry's shoulder. "You ungrateful ingrate. The fact that I can barely move is the only thing stopping me from hexing you."

Harry helped him over to the potion. "If it were the only thing, you might not hold me so tight, Professor. Besides, I've made your potion. Be nice to me as a reward for not poisoning you."

Snape took the potion (both doses) and leaned on the table. "Well made, Potter. Your skills have improved. Grace has done wonders for you."

Having moved to give Snape more breathing room, Harry looked up at him now. "*You've* done wonders for me. Thank you." He reached out a hand to gently cover Snape's. "Tomorrow I'll come and show you all I've learned. Sunday, you'll teach me how to tango. And Monday is the ball, right?"

Snape looked carefully away from Harry's hand. "Make certain your date knows that."

Harry's eyes went wide. "Date? Why do I always have to get a date last minute? Can't I go, well, stag?"

Snape glowered at Harry who momentarily decided to glare back. "Fine. I'll see what I can do. Do you need help getting to bed again?"

"No, Potter. And even if I did, I might refuse on principle, just to make certain you showered and went to all of your classes."

Harry felt his face flush. "Noticed that, did you?"

Snape still wouldn't turn his head. "How could I not?"

Harry pulled away his hand after a moment of searching the bit of Snape's face that he could see. "I suppose. Well, I'll see you tomorrow. I'll come by after lunch it that's okay."

"Certainly, Potter. I'll expect improvement."

Harry smiled. "Then you won't be disappointed in me."

Snape did not speak another word, so Harry left. Snape turned his head more so that Harry still couldn't see his face as he walked out the door. Harry whispered to himself as he closed the door, "What is going on with him?"

A portrait of a wide-faced witch in a bright yellow dress piped up, "We think its constipation, m'dear. That sour look on his face is the key."

Harry realized that he had to take a long moment to remember the sour look. He hadn't seen it in a while now, at least not that he could recall.

Ignoring the comments of the portraits around him, Harry wandered back up to the Gryffindor dormitory, suddenly grateful that he hadn't seen Filch as he'd forgotten his Invisibility Cloak in the Potions classroom. Briefly, Harry wondered to himself how he could forget something (which was only invisible when someone was wearing it) so often! Snape, surely, would keep it safe.

At a quarter past one the following afternoon, Harry arrived at Snape's quarters. He had gone to the classroom, but Snape had not been there, nor had he been to breakfast or lunch that day. He had waited for a bit, but to no avail. So, now he tried Snape's quarters. There was no answer when he knocked, and of course the door was spelled shut. Harry briefly wracked his brain for the password. "Ah... Acutempero!" Harry bit his lip briefly and was amazed as Snape's door swung open. Harry let himself inside.

Snape was not in his living room, nor was he in the kitchen, or even his Potions study. When Harry knocked on the bathroom door, there was no answer. No, perhaps it was not constipation after all. There was only one room left -- Snape's bedroom. Harry knocked quietly, then a bit harder. Suddenly, he heard a groaned voice. "Come in!"

Harry opened the door and entered the room. Snape was lying on the bed, still wearing his robes. "I apologize, Potter. I should know better than to take two full doses of Ixitensus, no matter how much it hurts. I slept like a log for... oh, Merlin... 12 hours? That's thrice what I normally get."

Harry smiled. "Ah, the life of a Potions master. Do you want me to come back later, or just step out a moment?"

Snape froze for a moment to look at him. "It isn't anything you haven't seen. You may do as you wish, though I will be ready momentarily."

Harry nodded and tried not to blush as Snape pulled back the covers and began to take off yesterday's robes. He noticed that he was standing by a bookshelf, and turned his attention to it. It was, again, muggle literary fiction, though a few lesser-known wizarding authors were thrown in the mix. Then, suddenly, "Hemingway, sir?" Harry said as he turned to look Snape in the eye. it wasn't quite where he ended up looking. He blushed and turned away again. He'd just seen Snape naked... completely.

Snape called out from where he was changing clothes, "Yes, Potter. Hemingway. He's suitably bloody, so I get all of his works for gifts. I personally cannot stand his attempts. I prefer Poe."

Harry nodded, understanding. "Dark, not bloody. Yeah."

Snape spoke through the material of the shirt he was putting on, "Have you read much Poe, then?"

Harry plucked at a copy of Shakespeare's "Macbeth" absently. "I always chose him for my book reports. I've not read as much as I'd liked, but I've read enough to know I like it. My class did an interpretive dance to 'The Tell-Tale Heart' the year before I came to Hogwarts. I adapted the script and directed. I didn't know I could dance, then. I'd never had a decent teacher." He pulled "Macbeth" from the shelf and began to leaf through it. Snape had made many witty and insightful remarks in the margins with flashing ink.

Snape approached Harry from behind and put a hand on his shoulder. Harry jolted at the contact. "Is that your favorite? 'The Tell-Tale Heart'?"

Harry shook his head and closed the book, beginning to put it back on the shelf. "No, sir. My favorite is 'The Cask of Amontillado'. I rather like the idea of revenge without consequence." He shivered slightly, at feeling able to be so candid with Snape about such a thing. Or perhaps he only shivered because he could feel Snape's breath on his neck, wending down the collar of his robes in a gentle caress.

Snape let go of Harry's shoulder abruptly. 'It's nice, sometimes, to hear people comment on one's possessions in a pleasant way. I normally am subjected to people blathering about how much my quarters seem like a quiet bachelor's pad."

Harry wrinkled his nose. "Well, I suppose it does. They're nice rooms... well-decorated, I suppose. But, it seems so lonely. It makes me sorry for you?"

"You don't like the idea of me being a confirmed bachelor?"

"No, sir. I don't. I don't want people to think of you that way."

"Well, Potter, I assure you -- few people care about my bachelor status, and even fewer try to remedy it."

Harry's eyes narrowed in confusion. "It's not some disease. Really, Snape, you should-"

"When did I stop punishing you for failing to call me 'Sir' or 'Professor'?"

"Last night."

"Well... that's that, I suppose."

Harry nodded curtly. "So, shall we dance?"

Snape led the way to his classroom without further comment. Draco Malfoy was waiting outside the door. "Professor... are you really teaching Potter how to dance?"

Stopping abruptly to address Draco, Snape put on his trademark sour expression and delivered his crucial line. "Dumbledore has instructed me to give Mr. Potter dancing lessons so as not to embarrass our school on Monday, Draco. I hear that you've been invited on your father's behalf. Congratulations."

Draco smiled coyly. "I, of course, need no dance lessons. My father had the best instructors for me."

Harry smirked. "Daddy's money still can't buy talent, Malfoy. It doesn't work in class, Quidditch, or dancing. I bet I can outdance you."

Draco scowled. "Professor? Is that okay with you?"

Snape grinned slightly. This would be a sight to behold.

And, so, several minutes later, Harry and Draco were standing with conjured mannequins who responded in kind to their movements. Harry's first thought was, "If Snape can create these things, then why did *he* dance with me?"

Snape explained the scoring. "These partners of yours will grade you based on where your eyes are pointing, how long your steps are, how firm your lead is, how often you step on their toes, or collide with other objects or dancers, etc. They are impartial judges. Pick a dance based on the music you hear. You'll also be judged on that and how quickly you manage to change dances."

The music began and Harry immediately began to foxtrot. Before it was all over, he'd polka-ed and salsa-ed and rumba-ed and conga-ed and trotted and waltzed and Charleston-ed and line-danced and square-danced and break danced and, thankfully, everything-but-tangoed.

When he finished, he was exhausted, but Malfoy was even worse for wear. Snape looked at the both and went over to Draco's mannequin and tapped it once with his wand. A slice of air colored and curled into a makeshift scorecard for Draco. He'd scored perfectly in several categories, but had lost crucial points for stepping on the mannequins toes several times and having very little hip movement during many of the Latin dances.

Snape approached Harry's mannequin and gave it a likewise tap. Harry closed his eyes for a moment as his scores were revealed. Draco gasped in shock and Harry's eyes shot open. Had he done that badly? But, no, there was his score: 999 points out of 1000. He'd lost only one point for taking a long step as he segued into the waltz.

Draco scowled again, then looked to Snape. "I'm going to tell my father about this. You'd better prepare for another dance student, Snape."

Snape raised an eyebrow calculatingly. "That's 'Professor Snape', Mr. Malfoy. Five points from Slytherin for your cheek." He turned toward Harry. "And five from Gryffindor from the new know-it-all."

Draco stalked from the room and left Harry and Snape to their own devices. Harry was the first to speak. "I don't know it all. I don't know the tango. Teach me tonight? I obviously know the rest."

Snape nodded slightly. "That you do, Mr. Potter. Fifteen points of Gryffindor for a job well done. Shall we dance?" He pulled Harry closer by his hips.

Harry felt his heart quicken and his breath catch in his throat. "Yes; let's dance"

The music started, and Harry felt himself being swept away. "Wait a minute. Aren't I supposed to lead?"

Snape paused to look at him, only inches from Harry's face. "When you tango, it doesn't matter. The tango is a dance of passion. To try to ruin it with rules makes you lose the meaning." And they were moving again.

The tango, Harry quickly learned, was not a dance you did on the first date. It was an intimate show of passion and arousal, meant to bring the dancers to a fevered frenzy -- essentially replacing foreplay. If Harry had realized this, he might never have suggested it (especially at Hermione's behest!), but now that he was embroiled in the endeavor, he could not bring himself to stop.

Puberty had begun to hit years ago for Harry. He'd never relished the idea of it before. But sexual maturity was certainly sounding like a fine idea right now. He'd never thought of Snape as a lover, especially as it was only recently that he realized that he could stand the man. Besides, he'd never thought about having a lover at all. He'd thought about Cho Chang as a girlfriend, but that idea paled in comparison to the thoughts filling his head as he and Snape pressed against each other and changed lead. It was heady to relinquish control and then be allowed to regain it, especially with a man whom he wouldn't trust to touch his hand a week ago. Now, he could only hold on for the ride as he imagined what those hands were capable of with him.

When they had finished the dance, it was time for dinner. Snape sent Harry ahead of him, presumably in order to straighten the room. "I'll be busy after dinner, Potter. Perhaps you should come back tomorrow."

Harry nodded and smiled. "I'd like that, I think. I've got Quidditch practice in the morning, so I'll come after lunch again. Will I have to come to your quarters again, sir?"

Snape trailed a finger along the edge of his desk. "I think so, Potter. No, not to wake me... but to see something that I'm certain you missed. Perhaps then I can cease to be quite afraid every time you leave my sight."

"I could just stay in your sight, you know," Harry said without thinking, a blush straying to his cheeks. "That is, um, I'll be there. Definitely."

Snape refused to look up, and Harry couldn't bring himself to be brave about finding out what had just happened between them. There was, after all, always tomorrow. Or, was there?"

That night, as Harry entered the Gryffindor common room, Ron came running up to him. "Harry! Hermione's all bonkers about this dancing thing now. Teach me to dance! Please?!"

Harry glanced around quickly... "Not here, Ron-" Then he thought of something brilliant. "Wait. Let's go to the Shrieking Shack. It'll make it easier for you to see where I've stepped."

Then, Harry remembered that he'd never asked Snape about his Invisibility Cloak. "Uh, Ron, hold on a second, maybe we can just go to-"

But Ron cut him off and was soon out the door. "C'mon, Harry! This'll be great!" Harry followed closely, suddenly afraid of what would happen next.

They made it to the Shrieking Shack just fine. But, as soon as they entered through the trap door in the floor, Harry knew something was wrong. Sure, the dust had been wiped away the last time they'd been there, but there shouldn't have been a wide strip of nothingness on the floor, right? Harry drew his wand. "Ron, I think perhaps we've come at a bad time."

But, before they could leave, they were bound and Harry caught sight of a random Death Eater. Suddenly, his head was alight with pain and he suddenly knew no more. His defenses raises, he fell to the floor, unconscious.

The Death Eater must have decided not to kill him immediately, Harry thought as his eyes opened. "He probably wanted to bring me to his master... I wonder what the chances are of Voldemort trying to kill me and failing again."

But as Harry came to, he realized that he was not lying down. He was dancing. An invisible force was leading him around the room, but his body was making all of the right movements. Suddenly, "Snape?!" And the arms holding him tightly released slightly. "You fool! How did you manage to foil their plans before I even knew about them?"

Harry shook his head and continued to let Snape lead. "Accident... trying for dance lessons... wait! Ron!"

"Mr. Weasley is a pleasant lump in the corner, Potter. Now, keep dancing."

Harry responded. "I think that's the first time you've called Ron 'pleasant'. Why are we dancing anyway? Just so they don't kill us?"

Snape nearly missed a step. Harry could only barely tell. "Can't you see, Potter? They're all falling to the ground. I can't explain why -- perhaps the Department of Mysteries can."

"Why mention them?"

"I had Mr. Weasley owl them."

"How?"

Snape lifted his hand from Harry's shoulder and moved it to gently cup the back of Harry's head in his palm. "This is not a time for questions, Potter. This is a time for dancing. Besides, I am certain that Mr. Weasley would love the chance to tell so fascinating a story himself. Dance!"

A storm outside had been providing the beat for their waltz. But, the rhythm suddenly changed. "Tango!"

And before they could think, their bodies were moving. Harry could not see his partner, but he always knew where he was. The next thing Harry knew, he was on the ground next to Snape, finally still, but not for long. Harry quested out his Invisibility Cloak and pulled it off of Snape. "You're right. I am a fool. But we stopped them, and there's another whole day before the dance."

Snape looked at Harry reproachfully. "And you still haven't gotten a date."

Harry smiled and leaned forward. He put a hand on each of Snape's shoulders, then gave him a long kiss that was not unreturned. "There. Consider that your engraved invitation. Be certain to bring it with you... and wear blue dress robes."

Snape looked dumbfounded and Harry resolved to make it a more-common occurrence. "That's a good look for you, Snape. Keep it up and I'll ask you to my graduation party, too, and wouldn't the Gryffindors love that?"

Everything was quick to be straightened out once they were back at Hogwarts, or at least almost so. Ron was sent to Madame Pomfrey for further observation. The unconscious Death Eaters were carted away, and while Voldemort wasn't among them, a man who worked through henchmen did very little without his henchmen around.

So, Harry and Snape (the one thing which hadn't been straightened out) spent Saturday night and all of Sunday discovering the joy of the horizontal mambo and the bed sheet polka. There were other gratuitously fruity words and phrases that could be used, but Harry and Snape were in general agreement that, regardless, it was the best way to trip the light fantastic. They also discussed their plans for the future, and who would lead at the dance the following night.

As the first note played in the crowded ballroom on Monday evening, Harry led Snape around the dance floor. After every tango (a wizarding favorite), they would switch leads. That evening, several people had already been by to convince Harry that he needed to be an Auror. He was well-prepared for the questions and dancing now, but who ever knew that dancing could be so much fun, or such an excellent weapon when infused with Harry's innate magic (as the Department of Mysteries claimed)?

Snape came up behind Harry as he was talking with yet another man about the dangers of being an Auror being far overshadowed by the pay. Snape put his hand on Harry's shoulder. "Sorry, Minister. I'd like my dance partner back. It gets lonely by the punch bowl."

Harry excused himself as well and they walked toward the dance floor. "So, that's the new Minister of Magic, huh? He's enthused about everything, it seems."

"It seems, yes. But if you ever have the misfortune of seeing him in battle, you'll understand the appointment."

Harry walked in a slow circle around Snape as the music played, trailing one finger along the skin exposed on his neck by his dress robes. "Perhaps. But, for now? Let's dance."

Snape pulled him close and they entwined and danced, filling the room with the power of their new-found love and lust. They paused briefly as confetti filled the room, drifting down to join all of the dancers.

Harry smoothed his hand along Snape's cheek. "I'm sorry I took so long to realize this about us. If I'd known sooner, you wouldn't have had to go through this."

Snape held him even more tightly. "Well, think of it this way... I was waiting for you to lead."

Harry suddenly dipped Snape down and then brought him and pulled him close. They swayed together in companionable silence, eager for the end of the night when they could go home -- to Hogwarts -- together. Until then, thank goodness they kept playing the tango.


End file.
